


Practice Makes Perfect, Pendejo (Jason Todd x Reader)

by mediocrityexpert



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityexpert/pseuds/mediocrityexpert
Summary: You wake up to AC/DC for the 1000th time because Jason Todd is the worst neighbor you've ever had.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Reader, Jason Todd & You, Jason Todd/Reader, Jason Todd/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 73





	Practice Makes Perfect, Pendejo (Jason Todd x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to make reader bilingual because as a Latina I love Spanglish :) might also write a prequel or sequel for this one, let me know what you think
> 
> A Few (Loose) Translations:
> 
> Maldita sea = dammit  
> Gallina = chicken  
> Pendejo = dumbass  
> Bobo, tonto, idiota = idiot, moron  
> Huevón = stupid

Loud music caused your bedroom walls to vibrate and jolt you awake, followed by incessant knocking on your apartment door.

You groaned, covering your head with your pillow. You knew what time it was.

“ _Maldita sea_ , Todd.”

You were glad your dad–the landlord–was working his night shift at the hospital so he couldn’t hear the neighbors complaining about Jason playing what your 85-year-old tenant Beatrice Copeland called, “The Devil’s music!”

“Yes, no worries, Ms. Copeland, I’m heading upstairs right away.”

And up you went as you knocked on Jason’s door, mentally preparing yourself for the sight you were about to see.

AC/DC stopped playing and the door swung open, only his disheveled hair poking out. “I was worried you weren’t going to come. Took ya long enough!”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s 3 am.” He let you in as you began looking at him from head to toe, trying to assess any injuries.

You noticed the crimson red spot on his lower right abdomen and sighed. “Where’d you leave my kit this time?”

He sat on his couch as he grunted, “Upper left cabinet next to the fridge!”

Aside from being the daughter of the landlord, you were a nursing student. You learned of Jason’s ‘nightly activities’ when he once played heavy metal music at 4 am, much to everyone’s dismay. Your father asked you to pay him a visit.

And when you knocked on his door, you were alarmed to see him with a large laceration on his forehead, a swollen black eye, bruised knuckles, and several other wounds. You also saw an unconscious man on the coffee table.

His only response to your gaping face. “You’re a nurse, right?”

Which started your friendship and you fixing his many injuries. His equivalent of a bat signal to ask for help? Playing loud music. But he switched to classic rock when you begged him to stop playing heavy metal and save everyone’s ears.

And after a year, these visits became routine. You sat next to him on the couch, opening the kit and getting supplies ready.

“You know, you could just text me instead of playing _Back in Black_ for the 100th time.”

“And you know that your snoring would prevent you from hearing those texts.”

“Touché,” you muttered as you lightly swatted his shoulder and tried not to match his wide grin. “ _Y quítate la camisa, tonto_.” 

Jason heard that command so many times that he knew what it meant, so he rolled his eyes and obeyed.

“Most women ask me to take off my shirt in nicer ways. Some even beg.”

“Right, I’m sure they’re begging to see you bleed all over the couch, too.”

“They’re usually distracted by the thunder thighs and abs.”

“What abs?” you snickered as he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but wince when your gloved hand lightly touched his wound and he let out a hiss. It didn’t look that deep but it definitely needed stitches.

“What happened this time?”

“I let one of Black Mask’s dummies stab me so he wouldn’t feel like a total loser.”

“Oh, you let him? Or were you caught off guard?”

“Shh, you weren’t even there.”

You tsked and left it at that. You usually refrained from asking too much, something he appreciated. Instead, you decided to adopt a lighter tone.

“At least branch out in the music, dude. The girls in this unit keep drooling over you because you play rock music and ride a motorcycle when you’re really just a sensitive, emo potato.”

“Awww, are you jealous?”

“In your dreams!” 

“Actually, you occasionally make the appearance. Hopefully I’m a frequent guest in yours.”

His sly smile and wink made you scoff. You thought he would stop (when did he ever?) but he continued on.

“Well, if anything, _they_ should be jealous since they don’t get to touch me as much as you-OUCH! What was _that_ for?!”

“ _Gallina_ , I was injecting the anesthetic. Although I might’ve gone in a bit harder than I should’ve. Must’ve been an accident.” Your smirk suggested otherwise.

“That’s what I tell every girl in bed, too.”

A smile tugged at your lips, trying not to laugh. You failed, which caused a smug grin to appear on his face.

Well, two can play at this game.

You began suturing the wound, attempting to ignore his intense stare. Those blue eyes made you realize you’re one of the unit girls you constantly made fun of. Although you’d never admit it...

“I swear you’ve been getting more hurt lately, are you doing this on purpose just to see me? There are easier ways. Some guys ask the girl out or at least text.”

“Again with the texting. Wouldn’t you rather see this brilliant smile in person?”

“Not when I have to stitch your wounds, _pendejo._ ”

“Don’t know what that means but it sounded hot.”

“Trust me, it’s not a term of endearment.”

“Well, don’t keep me hanging.”

“There’s multiple meanings. But in this case, it means ‘dumbass’, _pendejo._ ”

“Ha! I’ve been called worse.”

“I didn’t realize I was in a competition. That word is far from my best weapon!”

“Care to share your arsenal, then?”

“No, _bobo_ , I pull back my punches when the guy is too weak to fight back.”

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Felt that in the heart, not sure you can stitch that one up.”

“You joke, but a good thing about these visits is that I’m now the best student in suturing workshops. Practice makes perfect, I guess? I’m basically a pro.”

“Oh, I didn’t know pros take longer than needed to stitch their patient up.”

“Hey! If we’re talking about pros then _you_ shouldn’t be getting hurt every night.”

“Damn, I thought you said you were holding back the punches!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll shut up!” you conceded.

“I can take it like a champ. Least I can do when you help a _pen-de-ho_ like me.”

You guffawed at his horrible accent but appreciated the effort. But you immediately froze when he said the next line:

“Besides, I like talking to you.”

You fell into silence, although a million thoughts were flooding your head. 

“Well, now you’re too quiet.”

You finished stitching him up and cleaned his wounds before applying gauze. You took a deep breath before disclosing, “ _Huevón_ , you know me. I ramble when I’m nervous.”

Another moment of silence ensued, this time tenser. To avoid his gaze, which was burning holes into you, you began cleaning your instruments. Usually, he would put his shirt back on when you were packing up stuff, maybe even start his kettle so you guys could drink tea and chat a bit before you left.

But this time he remained shirtless, still looking at you, processing what you said earlier and contemplating his next words.

“What makes you nervous?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you closed the kit, removed your gloves, and began to twiddle your thumbs. You looked anywhere but at him.

You let out a shaky sigh, surprised that tears were threatening to well up in your eyes. _Fuck it, I’ll just say the truth._

“It pains me to see you get hurt so often. Sometimes I get scared that one day my skills won’t be enough and I don’t even know what’d I do then–”

You felt a warm hand touch your cheek and then chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. They were steady, determined.

“You don’t have to worry. You have my word on that.”

“I trust you. But I don’t trust the ones you fight. They play dirty.”

“And I play dirtier.” You both cringed immediately at that line. “Okay, that came out wrong.”

“Ya think?!”

You both laughed softly, feeling some of your concern dissipate.

“What I mean is that I’ll be more careful, Y/N, even if that means I have to see less of you.”

You pursed your lips before offering a slight smile. His fingers ran through your hair, and you leaned into the touch, your shoulders relaxed at his soothing actions and sincere words.

“Thank you, but getting less hurt doesn’t have to equate to seeing less of me.”

He gave a small smile. “No, it doesn’t. Guess I should start texting you more.”

You felt his hands gently touch your hips as his face got closer to yours, an action he did slowly so you could say no if you wanted. But you didn’t and your heart rate quickened when he began tracing circles on you with his thumbs.

“I mean that would be nice...it would also be nice to see you at regular hours when you’re not covered in bloo–”

Jason’s lips crashed onto yours. Overcoming your initial shock, you eagerly returned the kiss, your mouth allowing his tongue entrance while he placed you on his lap.

You quickly pulled back, in a daze but still with enough breath to say, “ _Idiota_ , you’re gonna get your stitches ripped with too much force!”

Jason only answered by kissing your neck fervently, which made it harder for you to scold him as you tilted your head back and your breath hitched.

“Good thing I know a nursing student. ‘Practice makes perfect’, right?”

“Mmmhmmm, how about we skip tea time and see if that theory works in bed?”

Jason simply smirked. “Why not test it now on this couch?”

You kissed him again–this was the first time you actually agreed with the _idiota_.


End file.
